


And the moment you've lost yourself, is the moment that you're found

by knightinpinkunderwear



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: ALMOST Character Death, Aka people actually care about Ed, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Beating, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Chapters are short, Chapters can be longish, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Concussions, Drunk Character, Ed gets some damn help, Ed gets the shit beat out of him, Ed goes missing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e20 Under the Knife, Family, Found Family, GCPD, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, In which Ed actually gets therapy, Lawyers, Misogyny, Past Child Abuse, People are actually nice, S1E20, The sexism is from tom, Violence, What-If, almost, and people listen to him and really pay attention to what he's saying, ed gets freinds, friends are family, i guess, season one, season one divergent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:10:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinpinkunderwear/pseuds/knightinpinkunderwear
Summary: Ed fell, knees connecting harshly with the pavement. He is scrambling to get the knife out of his pocket. It's slapped out of his hand. A fist connects with his face and he's sent, crashing to the pavement. His glasses have flown somewhere out of reach, no doubt cracked or broken. Without a beat of rest, shoes connect with his middle. Kick after kick. Tears and snot are running across his face. A particularly harsh kick lifts him from the pavement, if only for a second before he crashes down again.





	1. The moment that you've been knocked down, is the moment that counts

Sitting in his car used to be far from the list of uncomfortable situations, however, it was now quickly climbing up the ranks. The train roared above, its rumble reverberating through the street and straight into his bones. The sky pitched darker as each minute drew by, as if dragging the world down into the deep of the ocean, bluer and bluer, and darker, and darker. And with the evening, the shapes of people seemed to change, they were less stark against the background, the dim colours bleeding together to make obscure shapes, painting them as strange creatures. The street lamps lit, bathing the road and cement in a greenish yellow light, like sickly fireflies with a stagnant glow. The wind briskly swam by, frolicking with a gentle, leisurely pace. The evening was calm. He found the calm unsettling. It ate away at his nerves, like rats gnawing on wires till the copper was exposed and fraying. Seconds ticked by maniacally as if taunting him with laughs and jeers. Voices echoed faintly in his mind. _ Women need a firm hand. He is so weird. That’s what I thought Riddle-man. You need professional help. What is is wrong with you?!  _ After hours of sitting, hours of waiting, Ed finally spotted a familiar blond. Officer Tom Daugherty was tipsily hobbling through the sober night and across the cement path. He was headed toward Ms. Kringle's house. Where he might hurt her. _ \--He had before, what would stop him now?--  _ Ed scrambled out of the warm car and into the chilly night.

“Hey! Stop right there buster!” Daugherty turned, squinting through clouded, drunken eyes. 

“Riddle-man? What the hell are you doing, creeping around here?” The blond paused every few words as if they had lost their order on the way to his mouth and needed to be re-organized. 

“You need to leave Ms. Kringle alone.” The cold air stung his lungs and the words left his lips with tails of misty breath. 

“What?” Ed wasn’t sure if the man hadn’t heard him or if his drunkenness had impaired his language comprehension. 

“I won't let you hurt her.  _ Ever,  _ again.” Daugherty wobbled steadily towards Ed. The man seemed steady on his feet even when he was obviously intoxicated. The knife burned in his pocket, clenched between his fingers. “I think you need to leave Gotham.” he felt his voice waver more than he heard it, with each step that Daugherty took closer it wavered more. Like a child walking a tight-rope, losing focus with each precarious step. “Now.” the officer let out what could either be a huff of annoyance or mirth. Neither of which bode well for the forensic scientist. 

“I get it, you've got a thing for my girl! That's funny…” Daugherty trailed off, zoning out, eyes unfocused and staring at something past Ed’s shoulder. Almost as if he forgot what he was doing, forgot what was happening. “Don't take this personally,” the blond snapped back to the present, giving Ed a sincere look. Nothing could have befuddled Edward Nygma more. He had just enough time to raise his brows in confusion. Then, the blond punched him. He keeled over as the breath was rushed out of his lungs. He coughed. And received a knee to the chest. Ed fell, knees connecting harshly with the pavement. He is scrambling to get the knife out of his pocket. It's slapped out of his hand. A fist connects with his face and he's sent, crashing to the pavement. His glasses have flown somewhere out of reach, no doubt cracked or broken. Without a beat of rest, shoes connect with his middle. Kick after kick. Tears and snot are running across his face. A particularly harsh kick lifts him from the pavement, if only for a second before he crashes down again. He flips onto his front, trying to crawl toward the knife, trying to crawl away. A foot crushed down, on the middle of his back, keeping him in place. He can feel the snapping of several ribs, as the air is crushed out of him in a wheezing sob. The knife is kicked sideways, under another car. The footsteps off him. He is flipped onto his back. The feet are firmly planted on the ground, one on each side of his chest. He is yanked up by his jacket. Almost bringing him face to face with the kneeling attacker. Even at such a close distance, his face is blurred, with the tears and lack of glasses hindering his vision. He is shoved down by the fists entangled in the front of his coat. His head cracks against the edge of the curb. Loud, high pitched ringing fills his ears. Black splotches flash in his vision. Everything but the pain is distant; the bite of the chilly air, the soft squeal of a car door being wrenched open, the feeling of being dragged. The blurred smudges of colour changing, slowly pulling across his vision. Arms under his armpits, hoisting him up, up, and letting him fall. He fell in a curled up heap. His legs are bent close to his body to make him fit in the limited space. A dark shape hovers over his right side. The shape gets bigger until he is plunged into darkness. All that is left is the echoed ringing in his ears and the pain throbbing across his body.

  

  
  
Tom Dougherty enjoyed beating the little creep up, it built a rush up in his blood. A rush that he wouldn’t have to apologize for. A rush he would have to smooth over or ignore. He got to use it. And with the freak barely conscious and locked in the trunk of his own car, there would be one less nuisance at the precinct. The rest of the night was beautiful as if life had gained a pair of rose-tinted glasses. The lights had a soft pleasant glow and the dim shadows were like friends. Dinner tasted better that night, everything was a little bit sweeter with the knowledge that the four-eyed, riddle-loving freak was slowly dying across the street. He could still remember freak reciting the exact fact that would be his demise.  _ \--“Did you know a human can survive three weeks without food but only three days without water?”-- _  Kristen was well behaved and smiled more when he didn’t correct the only slip-up she made. He found it was easier to be sweet to her, knowing that the geek wouldn’t be able to pit her against him. He slept soundly and his hangover in the morning was only a mild inconvenience. He smiled with shark teeth when he saw the mint green car still parked exactly where he left it. Not seeing Nygma anywhere at work was it’s own little joy, knowing why was even better. Needless to say, this Friday was just shy of perfect.


	2. Where Is Nygma?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day One. The GCPD notices his absence.
> 
> WARNING: IF YOU'RE CLAUSTRPHOBIC OR AFRAID OF SMALL ENCLOSED PLACES/BEING TRAPPED this may have some uncomfortable descriptions for you

It had been a quiet day at work for Kristen. Which was a strange occurrence in and of itself. She had been expecting Mr. Nygma to burst in and lecture her about her terrible taste in men, or about letting them hurt her. Or he’d just ask her riddles and tell her fun facts that she’d rather not know; like the ratio of a hummingbird's heart to its brain. Just, do something that would irritate her in the way that only the bespeckled forensic scientist could. But he didn’t. And when she went to retrieve the borrowed case files from him, his office was locked and empty. That only happened when he was out sick, at a crime scene, or getting lunch. So she went to the detectives working the case that required her files; Harvey Bullock and Jim Gordon.

“-smuggling Italian suits, and a couple may have fallen into my locker on the way to the evidence room...” the unkept detective explained to his younger partner. Kristen coughed.

“Excuse me?” Harvey and Jim turned to face the redhead. “Have you seen Mr. Nygma? He needs to return the case files he borrowed.”

“Have you checked his office?” She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at the rising star of the GCPD.

“He wasn’t there,” she replied in a politely irritated tone. She wasn’t an idiot. 

“Maybe he’s at a crime scene?” the less sober of the two suggested. 

“If you see him, tell him that he owes me the files.” 

“Sure thing.” the detectives answered together. She then checked the front desk,  no one there had seen Edward Nygma come in. So, he was home, sick? Or got stuck at a crime scene?

“Where is Nygma!? He was supposed to be at a crime scene an hour ago!” the voice of Captain Essen cut through the normal buzz of the GCPD precinct. So the captain didn't know where he was, strange. 

“Maybe he forgot to call in sick?” Alvarez suggested, shrugging towards his boss. While it seemed plausible it didn’t sit right with Kristen. She had Nygma pegged as the kind of man that always called his boss when he got sick, regardless of how dire his ailment was.

“He hasn't answered his phone all day,” one of the other homicide detectives pitched in.  _ Strange indeed. . . _

  
  
  


He drifted, floating in pain and darkness. Each breath revealed a different ache. His limbs were weighed down as if they were glued in position. There were muffled noises somewhere, he couldn't tell how close or far. Distantly he felt the sticky, crispness of dried tears, snot, and blood. 

“Help” No one heard him. He could barely hear the plea himself. The sob started to build in his throat. And he was seven once again.  _ “Help!” the boy shouted, trying to maneuver so that he could bang on the door. The small, dark space of the janitors’ closet slowly suffocating him. He hated it. He felt like a caterpillar, trapped, crushed under a rock and slowly dying in the dark, alone. Alone. He was alone, no friends, trapped and caged like a freak. Each minute bled more tears from his eyes and more sniffles from his nose as he curled up in the corner. He was being punished. He did something wrong. What did he do? He racked his brain, trying to think of something, anything. What did he do? Had he bothered someone again? He had a habit of bothering people. But, he hadn't been trying to. He just wanted to be nice. Why did that bother people? Why did he bother people? He remembered that it took three hours for someone to finally open the janitors closet to let him out. And when they had he got in trouble for trying to skip class. Neither mother nor father were happy about that. They argued that night. It was loud and angry, as usual. But, this time, he snuck to his closed door to listen. They always argued, what about though? He couldn't remember the exact words even a few seconds after listening, but he could never forget the meaning. He knew that his parents didn't like him, that was something they made clear. He knew they hated him. But, it still hurt to hear it. He cried himself to sleep that night with the knowledge that they were fighting about him, about whose fault it was that he existed.  _


	3. Oh no...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two. Harvey and Jim check Ed's apartment.

The arrest of Jason Skolimski went well, all things considered. He was taken into custody Saturday, March 18, with only a few nicks and scrapes. --Harvey insisted it was a crime to bring in a serial killer as infamous as the ogre without an ounce of damage on him.-- Barbara was a bit shaken from being tied to the ceiling of a high tech torture room for 23 hours, but she seemed fine. Well, as fine as someone who's recently been abducted by a serial killer can be. She swore that she'd take a break from both the city of Gotham and men, and Jim honestly couldn't blame her. Harvey walked in, holding a phone to his ear whilst munching on a half-eaten soft pretzel. Jim smiled fondly at his partner, if he wasn’t at a crime scene Harvey was always eating or drinking something, it was a habit that Jim didn't have the heart to break. Besides Harvey got irritated for more often on an empty stomach. The fact Jim sometimes got free food from his partner was only an added bonus. That being said, the sweet and salty buttery scent was far more pleasant than the thing he called a chili-dog yesterday. 

“Not again,” Harvey huffed and dialed a number before placing the phone back into position. After thirty seconds he groaned and rolled his eyes, stuffing the rest of the pretzel into his mouth. He stood there, chewing it in the most annoyed fashion that Jim had ever witnessed anyone eat a pretzel. “Where is that geek?” Jim lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, “Nygma still hasn't picked up.” Harvey explained, punching in the number yet again. 

“Strange.”

“Yea, usually picks up on the second ring.”

“Maybe something happened?”

“Like what? What could possibly happen to the geeky beanpole?”

“Do you want me to answer that?” Jim deadpanned, Harvey glared.

“Nygma is safer than half the force, he probably has like 20 safety protocols to prevent stubbing his toes.” The forensic scientist did seem a little eccentric, and Jim wouldn't be too surprised if he had detailed plans in case trouble found him.

“We should still check in on him,”

“Fine.” Harvey huffed, rolling his eyes. “He lives in an apartment on Grundy.” Jim raised an eyebrow. “I only know because I had to drive him home when the stomach flu was goin’ around,” Harvey explained, not even attempting to be subtle about his annoyance, crumpling up the pretzel napkin and tossing it into a nearby trash bin. 

They knocked on the door. No answer. Harvey dialed the number. A phone rang somewhere, muffled behind the door. The detectives glanced at each other before Harvey picked the lock. The apartment was clean, neat. Everything in its place. The bed was clearly visible from the door, it was well made and empty. So was the closet (except for clothes). The cupboard only had dishes, and the bathroom was devoid of any living creatures. The dubbed “geek” nowhere to be found. His phone was still plugged into the charger on the countertop. A single glass, plate, fork, and knife were sitting in the drying rack. 

“Wait here, I'll look for his car downstairs” Harvey instructed. He took the stairs two at a time on the way down. In the parking lot there was no mint green car to be seen, he even checked the license plates. No  _ RIDL LVR  _ either. For good measure, he went to the security center and with the flash of a badge watched the footage of the last two days. Nygma left two nights ago and never came back. He didn't have a bag or seem to be in a hurry, so that ruled out running from someone or something.  _ Which only left. . .  _ Harvey hurried back up the stairs, calling Sarah Essen’s number on his way up. The captain answered on the fourth ring. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey-ah Captain, I think we have a problem.” Harvey started with a huff. 

“What is it, Harvey?”

“Jim and I just checked Nygma’s building, his phone is in the building but both him and his car haven't been here since Thursday. There's no sign of struggle in the apartment, and security footage has him leaving alone without a bag Thursday night at around 7.” 

“Are you suggesting-?”

“Yes Captain,” Harvey took a deep breath, feeling the need to take a long sip from his flask. He could tell that this was going to be a long day. “I think someone nabbed him.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this I realized how fun it is to write Harvey Bullock.


	4. Edward Nygma: Missing Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still Day two. Ed is officially proclaimed a missing person.

Sarah Essen tried to remember everything from the last time she saw the forensic scientist of the GCPD.  _ He was holding a watermelon, with little plastic swords sticking out of some pieces. It was carved to look like a basket. He looked a little crestfallen and a little worried, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t put it into words or wasn’t sure if he should.  _

“Captain?” the woman looked up, it was the manager of the records Annex, Kristen Kringle. “Have you been able to contact Mr. Nygma? He still owes the Ogre files,”

“No. He wasn’t in his apartment.” the captain took a breath. “Edward Nygma is officially a missing person. Bullock and Gordon are at his building now, he went out Thursday night and hasn’t come back. He didn’t have any bags and his phone was still plugged in. We think someone took him while he was out.”

“What would anyone want with him? He can be annoying but I don't’ think he could’ve really gotten on the bad side of anyone who’d-” Kristen couldn’t finish he thought, while the forensic scientist was very irritating and odd she didn’t wish him any harm, she just wanted him to stop bothering her. 

“Yeah,” Essen maneuvered around her desk and sat down, never breaking the heavy silence. Kristen walked back to the Records Annex quietly. Even the click-clack of her heels seemed muffled as if they knew the gravity of the situation. Kristen sat at her desk, staring at a file she couldn’t bring herself to read.  _ If Mr. Nygma had been missing since Thursday evening, that meant he had been missing for almost 48 hours already. Almost two whole days.  _ She stood, and with single-minded determination finding his employee file. She read every word, the data from his interviews only confirmed what she already knew. He didn’t seem like the type that would disappear, the type that would run away. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The ringing in his ears was back. Like an old-fashioned school bell, high pitched and wailing. Like the incessant cries of a child, begging his father to stop, claims of innocence, and desperate apologetic sobs.  _ He could remember that final school bell so clearly, someone had accidentally rung it as graduation ended. He remembered hurrying to give back his borrowed gown, pushing his advanced diploma into the bag he had packed the night before and taking the first bus out of town. The seat was uncomfortable and cold, but nothing like that could bother him anymore. He was finally escaping, he was on the bus to freedom. It took forty minutes for him to finally stop looking back on the road behind, to stop checking to make sure  _ father _ wasn’t following. He changed busses thrice before using the cash he’d saved up to buy a train ticket straight to Gotham. He had received a full scholarship and intended to use it as the foundation of his clean slate, his new, free life. Gotham was glowing in the dark like a gritty beacon. It didn’t look too welcoming but Ed knew that appearances often deceive. Besides, the contrast of the small suburban town to this giant city was comforting. No more bright sunny little homes that housed cruel-hearted people. At least if there were cruel people in Gotham they were being honest, not hiding behind the mask of bright, pleasant smiles and cherry pies. By the next day sixteen-year-old Edward Nashton was declared dead and eighteen-year-old Edward Nygma was ready to start his life as a full scholarship student at Gotham University. It wasn’t even that hard, all he had to do was alter some paperwork and change some data files. His past wouldn’t find him now or ever again. He was free, and it was exhilarating.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would give so much to have Kristen Kringle and Sarah Essen to be happy alive and safe.


	5. A Favour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still day two. Jim is feeling bad and asks a "friend" for a favour.

Jim Gordon had been through some pretty strange things during his time in Gotham. But the thought that someone would kidnap Ed, the most harmless person in the whole of the GCPD was baffling. He might’ve had habits that got on people's’ nerves quickly, but he was harmless as they come. But here he was, sitting at his desk writing a new missing person’s case for one Edward Nygma. It was unreal. The last time he’d seen Ed he’d been in the M.E.’s office, with watermelons.  _ He looked worried at first, like a child that thought they were going to be scolded.  _

_ “I-I have permission, Dr. Thompkins is much nicer than the old M.E. she said I could-” He had been fumbling over his words as if they were trying to trip him and as if he expected to be in trouble for . . . whatever he’d been doing.  _

“Hey! Earth to Jim!” Jim was back at his desk and his partner was leaning awfully close, Harvey was in dire need of a breath mint. 

“Sorry, I just. . .” Jim trailed off, not quite knowing what he wanted to say or how to say it. 

“I put out an APB on him,”

“He’s not a criminal, Harvey.”

“You think I don’t know that!? I only put one out cuz people are more likely to look for him that way.”

“I guess. . .”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Why Ed? He can be a bit intense, but he’s harmless. How could he have gotten in the sort of trouble that would get him kidnaped? Or make him run without asking any of us for help?”

“Jimbo?” the blond looked up, “He didn’t run away, if he was planning to he would have returned the files and finished up his cases. You haven’t really known him for that long, he would never leave without finishing what he started.” 

“Gee, that makes me feel better,” Jim replied sarcastically.

“Jim, it’s not your fault he’s missing. And I swear we will find him, boy scout.” Jim nodded, Harvey walked away, sitting at his own desk to start on the paperwork of the case they just finished. Despite the consolement and swears, his mind wouldn’t stop whispering.  _ What if we don’t find Ed? What could Ed be going through right now? Had his captor hurt him yet? Was he being tortured? Was he being sold through human-trafficking? What if he was dying at this moment? Was he scared, and dying alone? What if we can’t find him in-time? What if he was already dead? No, no. We will find Ed. _ An idea started creeping into his mind. It was what some would call a bad idea, as it would entail being indebted to a criminal, but that was nothing new. What was owing one more favour to the Penguin when it could save a life? Especially a life that helped to save many others, and serve the people of Gotham. He stood, taking the file, shrugging on his blazer and walking out of the precinct before his partner could stop him. The club that formerly was Fish’s looked good, it had changed colour schemes and stylistic themes, the indigo and gold felt less violent than the previous red. The detective took a seat at the bar. 

“Hello, old friend-”

“I need a favor.” Jim interrupted, every second counted, Ed could be dying.

“Obviously, isn’t that the only reason you ever come to see me?” Oswald Cobblepot asked smugly, sitting on the bar stool next to him. 

“His name is Edward Nygma, he’s been missing since 7 pm Thursday.” Jim slid the open file over.

“I was under the impression that you were a murder detective?” Oswald spoke without even glancing down at the paperwork.

“He’s GCPD.”

“And why, may I ask, would I want to help you find one of  _ Gotham’s finest _ ?” the Penguin asked mockingly. 

“He’s a forensic scientist, not a cop.”

“And? What’s in it for me?” 

“I’ll owe you a favor.” Jim deadpanned. 

“Yes, of course,  _ a favor _ . You owe me quite a few of those, I’m starting to wonder if they’re actually worth anything.” 

“What do you want?” Jim didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with the criminal’s dramatics. 

“Hmm . . .what do I want from James Gordon?” the criminal made a show of pondering. 

“Could you decide quicker?” Ed could be dying, dramatics could wait.

“Patience, Jim, is a virtue.” the Penguin mocked, pointedly. 

“He could be dying.” Jim's voice was forceful, angry, and violent. He banged a fist on the open file, Oswald rolled his eyes but looked down. 

“Wait a minute...that’s the little creep with riddles and factoids!” 

“What? You met- Did you ha-!” Was Oswald somehow behind this? Was he somehow in on it?

“No, I didn't abduct him. He was irritating, but not enough to warrant the effort to do so.” Jim re-holstered his gun. He couldn't quite remember taking it out. The two sat in loaded silence.

“Please, he, he's harmless, and the least deserving of...this. . .” Jim sighed. 

“Fine.” the detective shot up with wide eyes, “But, you'll owe me a public performance, here.” the mobster gestured in the general direction of the stage. Jim swallowed and nodded, of all the things the criminal could've asked it was surprisingly legal. Besides, right now all that mattered was getting the forensic scientist back alive.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim banter is fun banter.


	6. Is that blood!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two still. Tom tries to get rid of Ed and his car.

The pitch dark world was shuddering around him. Each rough movement jarred his body, making aches throb anew and pulling whimpers from his lips. It _ hurt. _ It was like being thrown down a hill of loose gravel after being battered by baseball bats. He couldn’t remember where he was. He could barely remember how he’d got there, someone had hit him. Kicked him, beat him. Then that someone put him here. Wherever here was. 

  
  
  


People were starting to look for the little creep. Bullock, Gordon, and Alvarez were already trying to track his licence plate. Even the captain had joined the search. Which meant he had to dispose of the car or move the freak out of it to a place where no one would find him. Like the bottom of Gotham River or six-feet-under in the State Park. So, he took off early, hurrying back to Kringle's house. Where he nearly had a stroke. It was  _ gone _ . The creep’s car was gone. And the stain of dry blood was easy to spot on the curb.  _ Shit. _ Someone had found him, already reported it. And the creep was going to sing like a bird in the morning.  _ Shit.  _

“Oh god! Is that blood!? Officer, help! I think that’s blood!” A shrill shriek broke him out of his thoughts. A woman across the street was waving him down. He was starting to regret not changing out of uniform.  _ Great, now he’d have to report it...but that also meant if anything of his was in the scene it would be excused from evidence, and if they hadn’t actually found the little creep yet...the GCPD was without it’s best forensic. Which meant that he wouldn’t be a suspect.  _

“What is it ma’am? What’s the trouble?”

“I just found-I thinks that’s blood or somethin’, I mean I know that it’s not red but I seen that blood turns brown like this, maybe I’m just freakin’ out, but I don’t think that’s motor oil or anythin’ else.”

“I think you’re right ma’am, just try to stay calm. How long has this been here?”

“How should I know!? I only just saw it!”

“Calm down, ma’am, was anything here before, that you know of?”

“Nothing but that stupid green car,” Dougherty kept his eyes on the notepad, “I think Marie finally got that thing towed.”  _ So that’s where it went... _ “Can you believe it, the asshole just parked in a spot that was clearly marked for the resident and just left his damn car there. I mean, what an asshole!” The woman rambled, as if eager to forget what she was supposed to be talking about. She was irritating, much too chatty for her own good.

“Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of, officer, but there could’ve been-”

“Alright, thank you ma’am, I’ll just call it in, you stay safe now.” He forced a smile, the sooner the woman was happy, the sooner she’d shut up.

“But like, that’s blood, and there has to be-I mean this is a big deal!”

“Ma’am, this is Gotham, a little blood on the curb is perfectly normal,-”

“This is the damn city! Don’t tell me that’s roadkill, and there isn’t no butcher nearby to be spilling blood all over!” her high pitched voice was starting to give him a headache, she really needed to shut up.

“Ma’am!” The woman shut her mouth, finally. “There is only a bit of blood, nothing else, no evidence to say that anything really happened here. Now if you found a body, that would be something I could do something about. But a little bit of blood, there isn’t anything for me to do,” The woman swallowed and nodded before slowly turning back on her way to what he could only assume was her home. That was at least one less nuisance to deal with. 

 

 


	7. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of day two. Alvarez thinks about his missing coworker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like cold dark places this is your warning, you might want to brace yourself or skip over the first paragraph.

It was cold. He was cold. The dark world around him was too cold, his finger tips burned and his lungs screamed as he breathed. He didn't know if his eyes were open or closed. Was he in the meat freezer? Had he misbehaved again? Had he complained too much? Was he in here because father was angry with him again? What had he done this time? He shivered, he couldn't remember. But he was cold and the air was so dry, he could feel his lips cracking where they were chapped. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes anymore. How much longer would he be in the freezer? Had father forgotten him in there? Was he going to die near hanging pig carcasses? What would they do with his body? It wasn't like mother or father would need to hide it, no one cared what happened to him anyways. He shivered again, trying to keep the sniffles from turning into sobs. It was too cold to cry. And father would only be more angry with him if he had been crying.

 

Detective Carlos Alvarez was generally a relaxed and calm guy. Though who wouldn't be on edge when the most harmless person in the GCPD disappeared. Even if he was a bit off-kilter, it was so easy to see that he was just like a puppy, overwhelming when excited, not exactly understanding social cues, but overall not meaning any harm. With the forensic scientist missing, everything in homicide was off, Nygma handled most cases and was ridiculously thorough, finding tiny scraps of evidence that could close cases up quickly. You never really know how important someone is until they're gone… it gave Carlos a growing pit in his stomach. Had he ever thanked Nygma? Asked him how he was doing? Had he ever really talked to the guy? The last time he'd seen him he'd been talking with Dougherty across the station. _He looked distraught, maybe even a little angry, he hadn't caught any of their conversation. Nygma looked horrified. With wide eyes and his mouth open in disgust, staring up at the officer on the stairs above him. Then Daugherty stepped down a few steps, Nygma still had to tilt his head up to keep eye contact, the way a child had to when talking to an adult. Come to think of it, the entire interaction looked like a child be talked down to. When Dougherty was done with the conversation he casually shoved past with a loud “Later, riddle-man!”_ It didn't seem threatening or cruel at the time, just a little bit of teasing. But, people did tease Nygma a lot, and now that he was missing there was a lot of hushed whispers and eye-rolling. Did anyone ever ask him if the teasing was ok? Had anyone ever made sure that what they were doing wasn't too much? Had anyone ever apologised? Had he? With each thought the guilt in his stomach churned and pooled. He hardened his resolve, when they find Nygma he'd make up for it. _If we find him._ A little voice whispered in the back of his mind. He swallowed, before getting up to check traffic cams and towing records for his licence plate.

  
  
After the run-in with the irritating and panicking woman, Tom decided to clear any evidence that may have been left from his quarrel with the little creep. After ten minutes of casing the area he had the little knife Nygma tried to use against him, and Nygma’s glasses. The lenses were scratched and the wire frames were bent. Other than the blood, there was nothing else left behind. Now, to find Nygma and make sure he wouldn't tattle. And to get rid of him in a more permanent way. If all went well, by tomorrow Nygma and his car would be at the bottom of Gotham River.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alvaraz is such a good guy, on the other hand Tom is a literal dirt bag piece of scum.


	8. One of our own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of Day 3. Approximately 12 hours left to save Ed. 
> 
> Carlos Alvarez has a talk with Kristen Kringle and together the two come to a horrifying conclusion.

Kristen bit her lip. Three days. Almost three days missing. But he wouldn't run away, she knew it, Mr. Nygma simply wasn't the type. Only, who would want to kidnap him or… she couldn't finish that thought. Surely no one would ever want him dead. He was overwhelming and odd, but surely that wasn't a good enough reason to kill someone? What had he been doing when she last saw him? That was where she should start thinking, right? It had been Thursday, a little past one.

_Tom was hovering over her, in her personal space, making her feel small. He asked if she'd forgiven him. She nodded, not looking at him. Mr. Nygma was standing in the doorway when Tom left. He'd immediately noticed the bruises. He'd looked so worried and sad._

_“Ms. Kringle this is not right. He can’t just-” the words were strong but not forceful, he acted so concerned and adamant that Tom’s behaviour had been unacceptable. It was a nice change, having someone be so concerned and not take the Officer’s side. But she insisted that it was none of his business and he left looking like a kicked puppy._

Kristen was starting to feel faint. Mr. Nygma had disappeared right after finding out about the bruises, he was so adamant that Tom should not do that. Tom had been unusually gentle Thursday night, and his good mood on Friday...Surely Mr. Nygma hadn’t tried to confront Tom, surely she was jumping to conclusions, besides it had been lunch break then. Mr. Nygma didn’t go missing until some time after 7pm. She stood up, she was starting to feel nauseous. She smoothed out her skirt, a habit more meant to ground herself than to rid of wrinkles at this point. What if Mr. Nygma had talked to Tom? What if Tom had done something? He didn't. He wouldn't. But, she had been wrong about him before. He did threaten to kill her if he ever saw her with another man… But he wouldn't actually kill anyone, right?

  


Carlos didn't know how to run a missing persons case that well. But he did know how to work homicide. And while he was hoping with all his might that Nygma wasn't actually dead, pretending that he was might help. At least in the point of figuring out what the victim had done the day of. So, he'd seen Nygma talk to Dougherty. Who'd seen him before? He asked, going through the precinct, one by one. Some rolled their eyes. Some apologised and said no. Most people just shook their heads. Gordon said he saw Nygma in the M.E.’s office around 8:40 am Thursday, smashing up watermelons. Capt Essen had seen him towards the end of lunch break holding a watermelon. The rind had been carved to look like a basket and there were tiny plastic swords sticking out of some of the cubes of fruit. Between 8:40 and 1:30 there was pretty much no one who remembered seeing him. The desk clerk said he came into work at 6:34 am and clocked out at 6:27 pm. So, he was either cooped up in his office all day. Maybe he'd just been diligently working on a case? A redhead in a sweater dark and a pencil skirt was worriedly and hurriedly trying to get to the Captain’s Office. Wait. Carlos hadn't asked her yet.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, but on Thursday do you remember seeing the forensic scientist-?”

“You mean Mr. Nygma?”

“Yes,”

“Why?”

“I'm Carlos Alvarez, and I'm trying to build a timetable of his day, hopefully that will help with finding him.”

“Kristen Kringle, I work in the Records Annex, Mr. Nygma came in around 1:26 and requested a few files, he never picked them up.”

“Did anything else happen?”

“Well,” the woman broke eye contact, shifting back and forth on her feet, and rubbed one of her forearms through the sleeve of her sweater. “Please don't tell anyone-please I'm not lying but,-” she took a calming breath, he wanted to ask if she -Kristen- was alright, but he had a feeling that asking her might just make her feel worse. “When he came in Tom -Officer Dougherty, my boyfriend- was there -but he left!- and, Mr. Nygma saw the bruises.” _Bruises?_

“What bruises? Did-did Dougherty hit you?” The woman's gaze flew back up, her eyes widening, and she swallowed on nothing.

“It was my fault, I said something I shouldn't-”

“That's not ok, he can't do that!” Carlos wanted to punch Dougherty.

“That’s pretty funny, Mr. Nygma said almost the same thing.” He already had more in common with Nygma than he thought. Maybe if he had taken the chance to get to know the guy, he wouldn't be missing. So if they were similar in opinions on abuse the next thing to do would be to report the abuser or confront them. The woman had passed him and was almost in Essen's office.

“Wait, did you say your boyfriend -the man who hit you- was Tom Dougherty?” He tried to say it quietly, he know the precinct wasn't the best place to say personal things like that.

“Yes?”

“Have you seen him Today?”

“No, I haven't,” the blood drained from Kristen's face. “Oh, no,”

“What? You don't think…-”

“Tom said if he ever saw me with another man he'd kill me,” she was speaking quietly, voice barely there with terror.

“He did _what!?_ ” Carlos really wanted to punch the man now.

“I never thought about what he'd do if someone confronted him, I-I didn't think anyone would ever do that for me,” with her words a stone dropped in his stomach. The Captain's description of how it seemed he wanted to tell her something. The conversation he'd seen Nygma and Dougherty have. Nygma left home to confront Dougherty and didn't return. So, either Dougherty killed him, or stashed him somewhere, probably beaten worse than his girlfriend.

“We need to tell Captain!” Carlos felt as if the air had been sucked out of the world. Not only was one of his colleagues missing or dead, but another one had apparently been the cause of that. He felt sick.

  


Carlos Alvarez and Kristen Kringle were not the kind of people to burst into Sarah Essen’s office in a frenzy. So when they did the was quite alarmed. Both were pale faced and shaky, with wide eyes and furrowed brows. _Definitely not good news then._

“Captain! We think we know who's responsible for Nygma’s disappearance!” Carlos Alvarez was typically calm, not usually a panicked shouter.

“Who?” The captain asked immediately.

“Officer Tom Dougherty” the two answered in unison. One of her own. She knew this precinct was corrupt, that this city was corrupt, but an officer making one of his co-workers disappear? That was a little too much to take in. Sarah sat, knowing full well it would be better for listening to whatever proof Kristen and Carlos had in a chair, especially based on the look and sound of them.

“Start from the beginning.” she said, feeling like she had swallowed sand.

“My boyfriend, Tom, he hurt me and Mr. Nygma noticed the bruises Thursday, and was very upset about that, it was almost 1:27 when he left the Annex”

“So that's what he wanted to tell me,” Sarah muttered, more to herself than the two employees present.

“And later I saw him talking to Dougherty, he looked... small ...and upset. We think he might've confronted Dougherty about the bruises and that maybe he went to confront him again and-” Carlos was speaking in a hurry, he wasn't even stopping to breathe.

“-hurt him, or killed him. Tom, he's threatened to kill me, if I ever left him and-” Kristen continued.

“You think that he'd hurt anyone who told him how to treat you?” Sarah was only voicing what the other two hadn't. But she needed confirmation that what she thought was correct.

“Yes.” when Kristen answered any and all calmness left Sarah Essen. She stood, fists on the table, leaning forward, pressing weight onto them. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Where is Dougherty now?”

“That's the thing, I haven't seen him since breakfast yesterday.”

“Carlos?”

“I haven't seen him either.” with those words she brought her fists up, smashing them back into the desk. Her nerves screamed. But it wasn't enough. Because she knew, somewhere one of her staff, one of _hers_ was beaten bloody or _dead_ because of one of her officers.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kristen, Carlos, and Sarah are all blessings. Don't worry too much, Ed will be safe soon. I promise.


	9. Location

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late-morning (noon-ish) of Day 3. Approximately 8-9 hours left to save Ed. 
> 
> Oswald helps, and Lee comforts Kristen.

 

 

It took only a few short hours for Oswald to track down the car with his resources. It took another hour for his idiotic underlings to figure out the direct number to the GCPD. It took ten more minutes to get someone at the GCPD to pick up the damn phone. You’d think that the central police station of the most crime-ridden city in the world would answer the phone in a more timely manner...

“This is Captain Essen speaking,” a woman started, pure mechanical rehearsed script. Not that Oswald expected any different, the woman probably answered 20 or more calls a day.

“Hello Captain, this is Oswald Cobblepot. I've found your missing man’s car. It's in the Towing Lot 5 West Gotham.”

“How- no, why did you-?” There was a distinct pleasure that came with tripping up the woman, it didn’t really matter who she was, he just loathed that robotic and rehearsed tone.

“A favour to a friend. Besides, it would simply be a shame not to assist someone in trouble, wouldn’t it?” He might’ve been slathering the sarcasm on a bit thick but who could blame him, he relished in tripping up anyone in the GCPD. “It would also be good to not be accused of crimes I wouldn’t waste my time on.” There was a bit of a pause. The woman was probably trying to form a response.

“Thank you, Mr. Cobblepot.” the woman said with a measured tone, though he could hear just the smallest hint of relief. She promptly hung up. He really shouldn’t have expected better manners considering the other officers and detectives he had the... _pleasure_ of talking with. To be completely honest, hanging up on him was the nicest of all the impolite things that various GCPD members had done to him in conversation.

  
  
  


Kristen was pacing back and forth in her office when Lee came in. She looked like she was going to gnaw her own fingers off. Back and forth, back and forth. To the right, now the left. Kristen had been a bit off since Ed had disappeared but, this? The pacing and finger-chewing was new. There were bags under Kristen’s eyes, they were darker than the little circles that had started to appear when she was dating Tom. Lee still wasn’t sure she liked the man, he was politely charming but he also seemed to be a brute, and if Kristen’s past taste in men hadn’t changed… _Stop, this isn’t about her boyfriend, this is about her colleague that is now missing._ Ed, sweet, strange, harmless Ed who was who-knows-where going through who-knows-what.

“Kristen?” the red-head nearly jumped out of her skin, definitely not a good sign. Her eyes were red, had she been crying? “Are you alright?”

“Not really, no.” she let out a sigh and slumped. “It’s Mr. Nygma, I think--we think-- we know what happened to him, or at least who did it to him.”

“I’m not following,”

“Tom.”

“Tom?”

“I think Tom is the reason why Mr. Nygma is missing.”

“What, why would Tom-?” Kristen stopped Lee before she could finish and rolled up one sleeve of her sweater, there were bruises they were sickly yellow-green, at least a few days old.

“Mr. Nygma noticed the bruises and figured out that Tom...he was so upset he kept talking about how Tom shouldn’t have and later Detective Alvarez saw him confront Tom and...Mr.Nygma went missing that night. I think he went to confront Tom again and Tom... _hurt_ him.” Tears were pooling in Kristen’s eyes, her voice was shaking. So Lee pulled her into a hug.

“Kristen, it’s not your fault.”

“But if I’d just-”

“Dwelling on the past isn’t going to help him now,”

“But what if he’s already…” she didn’t finish that, she didn’t have to, Lee had been pushing the possibility out of her mind for the past few days.

“We have to hope he’s alive for now,” Lee soothed, still holding her friend tight. It wasn't even a beat later when the door slammed open loudly. Detective Alvarez was the culprit, breathing a little heavily.

“We have a location on Nygma’s car!” he took a few deep breaths, “Oh, hello Lee,”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I forgot to add Lee in before this! Don't worry guys, I promised Ed will be safe soon and he shall. (Very soon. Very, very soon...)


	10. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed is saved. 
> 
>  
> 
> This part is more than 3400 words long (which is why it took so long to get it up.)

 

 

 

“We found him!?” Kristen’s head shot up from Lee’s shoulder and straight into the other woman’s face. “Sorry,” Lee nodded forgiveness.

“Not exactly, maybe? We know where his car is and that’s the biggest lead we’ve got.” Carlos shrugged, half apologetically and half relieved that they _finally_ had some idea as to a location. A location that could bring evidence and help them find Nygma while also incarcerating Dougherty.

“It’s better than nothing,” Lee said, Carlos and Kristen nodded. The somber air had a weight to it, like a thick smog.

“I’ve got to go now, find the car and- I thought you wanted to know any updates, so, Okay, uh...bye?”

“Thank you, Detective.” Carlos turned, inwardly scolding himself for his awkward phrasing. It had been hard to really formulate coherent thoughts and statements after coming to the conclusion one of his fellow GCPD members, one of his _brothers_ on the force had...No. There was no time for anger now, Nygma wouldn’t be helped by him if he let his temper take over. Nygma needed him to keep his head and to find him before Dougherty finished him off. _If he was still alive..._

 

* * *

 

His throat was full of cold fire. It was so cold and dry, it burned and stung. He wanted to cry, to scream. But he couldn’t make a sound. The tears stung and bit as they slid down, sideways. Like little cleat-footed soldiers marching across his face. His lungs and throat were full of shattered glass and his mouth was sandpaper. This is what death must be... Discomfort, pain, cold settled deep in your bones. Fingers, toes, and nose burning in their numbness. . . Words rang loudly in his head without noise. _That’s funny… Riddle-man… Useless, cheating, liar…_ With each word the cracks deepened. _He is so weird… Creepy kid… No friends… I won’t miss him…_ Something broke, the cracks finally pulling into a complete divide. He was broken. That must be why he’s here, like a broken toy he was tossed away, unwanted, unloved, forgotten…

Distantly, as if through a thick blanket of smoke, he heard voices. They were familiar, but he couldn’t place them. What was the phrase? _Tip of your tongue?_ Sounds were getting closer. Strange, syncopated thumps and crunches. _Footsteps._

“This is it!” Who was it? Why did the voice sound so familiar? What were they talking about? Surely, they were not here for him, he was dead, forgotten, _broken_ . Were they here to mock him? To beat him again? To make sure that even in death he had no dignity? He made a noise of distress. Another voice. He made the sound again…  His mind was getting too foggy to classify it… Too foggy to _stay_ …

 

* * *

 

Sarah Essen was at the end of her patience. The weasel of a man that ran the tow lot was neither organized nor did he seem to understand good business practices. His office was disgusting and closely resembled an alcoholic’s living room. Beer cans everywhere, fast food wrappers strewn across the floor, grease stains on practically every piece of paper visible and an off-white carpet that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in at least a decade. He was rude, standoffish, and couldn’t seem to listen without rolling his eyes. Jim, Harvey, and Carlos were being smart and keeping out of it.

“The license plate is RIDL LVR, the car is a mint green Ford, came in sometime yesterday.”

“You here to pay the fine for it?”

“The GCPD needs to see that car.”

“Pay the fee up front,”

“I want to make sure you and I are talking about the same car!”

“Is it yours?” every time the man opened his mouth Sarah’s headache got worse. How hard could it possibly be to show the damn police a car?!

“Are you-!? Ugh, as of now that car an active crime scene for the GCPD! Now take us to the damn car.”

“Jeez, lady you don't need to-”

“The car, now.” the man finally seemed to get the message. If only he could have gotten it a little quicker, her head wouldn't be pounding with as much fury as it did. He stayed quiet as he led the little band of GCPD detectives through the lot. The lot was pretty large and mostly full of mini-vans and trucks that looked a few years away from just falling apart.

“This is it.” Sure enough, there was Ed’s car, barely a scratch on it. Sarah was never more grateful for his peculiar choice in vehicles, and license plates. She turned to address the three who’d been following along, silently.

“Ca-” She didn't finish a single word before cutting herself off. Sarah could have sworn she heard something. Like a whimper. Everyone's eyes were wide, she hadn't been the only one. “Open the car,” she breathed out,

“I don't have the keys!” the greasy manager whispered. The whimper or cry sounded again. Jim tried the driver's side door. It was open.

“The keys are right here,” he said, pulling them from the pocket on the door. Jim and Carlos followed her as she rounded to the trunk… Harvey stood back with the man.

“Stay back,” the less than sober detective instructed, putting an arm in front of the curious man, who no one at this point trusted to know standard procedure for anything. Jim took a deep breath and started to try keys on the trunk lock. It was the fourth one. He hoisted the lid open. Sarah could have thrown up, but the intense wave of relief washing over her cured most of her nausea. Ed was in the trunk. His body and limbs curled close so that he could fit in the space that was not meant for full grown men, much less those who are 6 feet tall. His eyes were clenched shut, his glasses gone. His hair was a greasy mess, and he kept quiet, too quiet. He was still. The nausea was back. Jim was silent in his horror. Then he breathed, it was shallow, laboured, but it was breath. He was still alive.

“Ed?” he didn't respond. The decision was made then, without looking she pulled out her keys and held them to her left, where Carlos was. “I want you to run out and start my car.”

“Yes, Captain!” the keys were gone from her grip and through the corner of her eye, she could see him start to run back the way they’d come. Sarah slid a hand under Ed's torso and one around the other side and lifted. He was much too light. She ended up carrying him bridal style, he was too tall for anything else and she didn't want to give him head rush. “Jim, Harvey? I wasn't kidding about this car being a crime scene, get what forensics we have left here and work the scene, got it?”

“Yes, Captain!” both replied. She didn't wait a single beat before walking as swiftly and carefully as she could back to her own car. He was so cold. And he was barely breathing.

Carlos had done as instructed and held the passenger side open. They worked together to maneuver Ed into the seat and fasten the belt. His head lolled to the side, giving them a perfect view of hair matted with dry blood. _Oh no._

“Carlos, get in the car, call Gotham General and let them know we're on our way with a head injury.”

“Got it, Captain.”

 

* * *

 

Kristen and Lee were at Gotham General within 30 minutes of hearing that they'd found him.

Mr. Nygma was alive.

Detective Alvarez and Captain Essen were sitting in the waiting room. The two sat with the rest of their group. The silence was an expectant, much more tolerant silence than the silences in the previous days at the GCPD. Carlos got up at brought back four cups of lukewarm coffee twice before a nurse came to give them an update.

“He’s dehydrated, got two broken ribs, a lot of bruising around the torso, and a nasty abrasion on the back of his head. It looks like someone tried to beat his head in, but the skull is only suffering from a few minor fractures and there doesn’t seem to be any internal bleeding. He seems to be a bit concussed. And he really doesn’t like the no screens and no reading rule.”

“He’s awake?!” Kristen jumped up, “Will he take visitors?”

“Well, he said yes, though he seems a little dazed and gloomy, but, the doctor says there’s no harm in some company. As long as you fill in the forms.” _Great, more paperwork._

 

* * *

 

He came to with the irritating ambiance of a steady, electronic beep. Beep...Beep...Beep. His alarm didn’t sound like that. It also didn’t seem loud enough to be an effective alarm clock. It almost sounded like a… He cracked his eyes open, everything was a bright blur. He groaned, the sheets were too scratchy, the mattress was thin and uneven, and there was this odd pricking sensation in the crook of his left elbow. Wait… He squinted, it barely helped his poor vision. He wasn’t wearing his own clothes, the texture was all wrong. And he could swear he felt ties on his back, his legs felt bare beneath the scratchy sheet. The smell of sickness and cleaning alcohol and bleach was everywhere. _A Hospital._ Ed was in a hospital. It had been a long time since he’d been in one of those, practically a lifetime. He was a different person then, at least, legally speaking. _He was alive, in a hospital. Which means someone found him. Had someone been looking for him?_

 _“Oh come on, who would look for you?”_ it was his voice, but not. It was like some distorted imitation, it sounded cruel. It talked like father. _“It's not like anyone in this city actually cares about poor little Eddie Nygma,”_ Ed swallowed, the voice was right. Why else would everyone ignore him? Why else would they taunt and belittle him? When was the last time someone asked him how he was doing? If he was alright? _“Never.”_ he didn't cry. He'd known for awhile that no one at the GCPD thought twice about him. That none of them actually wanted to try to get to know him or try to be friends. He wasn't worth the effort. No one would miss him. Why would they, they didn't care. But, then, why was he still alive? A blurry figure approached him. A nurse probably. She asked questions, he answered. She asked him to look at something.

“I don't have my glasses.” the pen scratched across her paper.

“How is your head feeling?”

“It hurts.”

“Do you remember how you got your injuries?”

“I was punched, kicked, and then my head was slammed into the curb.” He spoke with clinical distance as if he hadn't been the one that was beaten within inches of his life then left to die.

“That explains all of ‘em; the few small fractures on the back of your skull, the two broken ribs, and quite a bit of bruising. You might have a concussion too, so you can’t read or look at any electric screens.”

“Roger Dodger,” Ed said halfheartedly. It wasn't as if the hospital would have puzzles or a chess set...not that anyone would want to play chess with him.

“You ok with visitors?”

“Yes.”

_“Ha! As if anyone would want to visit little broken Eddie, they already couldn't stand you when you were useful!”_

“Alright then dear, press the call button if you need anything!” The woman left, taking her forced cheer with her.

Leaving Ed alone. It seemed he was often alone.

His chest ached, and not because of his ribs, or bruises. It was a deeper ache, one he should --in all honesty-- be used to by now.

 _“I can fill a room or just one heart, others can have me, but I can't be shared. What am I?”_ the not-voice taunted.

“Loneliness.” Ed could feel the thing smile, it didn't need to be visible for him to know it.

 _“Don't worry, Eddie, I'll always keep you company!”_ he felt sick. Bile rose in his throat and tears welled in his eyes. His only company, the only one he could trust to be there, was an auditory hallucination. _Pathetic._ Though what did he expect, his colleges were probably glad he wasn't there to bother them with his presence. Because being there and being himself seemed to be enough to inconvenience people. The tears stung. It wasn't like he could help it. He'd always just tried to be friendly, but it seemed his existence annoyed people to the point of impoliteness and downright cruelty. Why were they so cruel? He'd only wanted to share his passions. _He'd only wanted a friend…_ He rolled onto his side, back facing the door and threw an arm over his face.

“MR. NYGMA!” Ed used all his self-control not to jump out of his own skin. What was Ms. Kringle doing at the hospital? Why was she in his room? Was she here to laugh at him? At how pathetic he was, or to wish that Officer Dougherty had finished the job? “Thank goodness, you’re alive!” _Why?_ “Oh! Sorry, you’re...sleeping.” she took a deep breath. “I'm so sorry, this is all my fault.” _What?_ “I should have-”

“It is not your fault, Kristen.” _Dr. Thompkins? Why was she here?_

“It _is_ my fault Tom attacked him!”

 _“She's only here because she's obligated to apologize, it was_ **_her_ ** _boyfriend that beat and broke poor, weird little Eddie!~”_

“Kristen, none of this is your fault.” _Captain Essen?_

“I knew that Tom Dougherty was dangerous and I let Mr. Nygma confront him, he could've died!” _Why would she care if he lived or died? Why would anyone?_

“You couldn't have stopped him, he probably would've killed you too!” _Detective Alvarez too?_

“Kristen, you didn't know Ed was going to confront him, you couldn't have changed a thing.” Dr. Thompkins consoled.

“Why are any of you here?” Ed didn't speak above a whisper, but the entire room seemed to hold its breath. He couldn't help the tears that were sliding down, down, off onto the scratchy sheets.

He felt small.

 

* * *

 

The substitute forensic was quiet. Too quiet. After a few years of working with Nygma, it was unnerving to be at a crime scene without being asked a riddle or getting bizarre but somewhat related tidbits. But the replacement just did their work, quietly cataloging, sampling, and placing those and the evidence in sealed bags. The manager had gone back to his office at least an hour before.

“It's so quiet,” Jim whispered.

“I'd never thought of how weird it'd be without him,” Harvey knew he hadn’t been the nicest to Nygma. He knew he’d been impatient and rude in most interactions, it wasn’t Nygma’s fault he was tired, lethargic, or a bit depressed. Did really matter if he felt guilty about the way he treated the scientist only when the guy wasn’t around? Did it matter if he never bothered to change the way he treated him? He may not have been the one to beat him to a pulp, but… _No._ He couldn't blame himself for that.

“Yea,” Harvey sighed, he could go for some comfort food right about now. Maybe he could sneak some in for Nygma? What sort of food did he like? What was he allergic to? _Shit._ Harvey didn’t even know what the guy ate… a pretzel would be a safe guess, right? There couldn’t be anyone who dislikes pretzels. Besides, a pretzel is much better than any hospital food. Unless he was allergic to gluten... No, Harvey'd seen him eating whole wheat toast. 

“Yea, it's right over here, it's funny, your other cop buddies dropped by to see the same car-” he looked at Jim, _he hadn't called for back-up._ Jim looked at him with the same confusion. Then why-? _Oh._ It was none other than Officer Tom Dougherty. Harvey didn't make a move to stop Jim as he ran at the guy. Instead, he made a move to help. Harvey may or may not have held the punk still as Jim punched him. Nygma was an oddball, but seeing him beaten to a bloody pulp then dumped in the trunk of his own car? That wasn't right. The only harm he'd ever wished on the geek was for him to lose his voice every once in a while.

“Jim, that’s enough. Tom Dougherty, you're under arrest for assault and attempted murder.”

“What? You can't prove that-?” Harvey could hear the smug look in Dougherty’s voice. He pulled something out of the man's pocket. Two somethings; Nygma’s glasses, and a small knife. Harvey silently thanked that he had worn gloves, it was cold and now the new evidence wasn't contaminated. What he wanted more than anything was to punch that look off Dougherty's face, but unfortunately, he was holding the man's handcuffed arm. And with the other hand, he gave the two new pieces of evidence to the quiet forensic. She took them and placed them into separate, sealed baggies and filed them away in the box with other evidence.

“Oh really? Well, I'm pretty sure that as soon as Ed wakes up he'll tell us how you assaulted him and left him to die in the trunk of his own car!” Jim was in Dougherty’s face, polite, fair, boy-scout all but gone as he retorted straight back into the scumbag’s face. After the tech packed up their stuff Harvey took great pleasure in shoving Dougherty roughly into the back of his squad car. Jim called someone to pick up Nygma's car on the way back to the precinct. There was a certain kind of holy smugness that came with putting a scumbag behind bars, this time it was soured. One of his fellow GCPD, one of his brothers… It was disgusting. Half the precinct watched as they marched him to the half-full cell to stay with the other scumbags until questioning. Harvey knew the confusion and betrayal in their eyes.

“You can't prove anything!” Dougherty shouted as he was shoved into the cell.

“Then why did we find Nygma's glasses on you?” that shut him up. “You know I can't wait for him to testify and throw your ugly ass in Blackgate, where it belongs!” Harvey walked away. He needed to file some paperwork, there was no way he was letting that rat free.

 

* * *

 

“Why are any of you here?”

“Everyone, out.” Sarah’s voice was almost soft. Silently, everyone left. It was just her and Ed. Who was lying still, curled on his side, facing away. Like an scared, sad child. “Ed?” The only movement from him was the shuddering breath, she could hear the sniffling in his inhale. “Ed, do you remember how long you’ve worked in my precinct?”

“Four years.” His voice was strained. Sarah carefully sat on the edge of the hospital bed. Ed stiffened.

“Four years as our Forensic Scientist, and another as an intern,-”

“-Ten months, it was ten months.”

“Yes, Ed. Only half of my officers have served as long.”

“Only three Detectives have worked here for less time than me.”

“That isn’t the point, Ed. The point is that I have relied on you to close cases for years, I trust you, and you are valuable to the GCPD. You were gone for three days and the place practically fell apart.-”

“-That doesn’t explain why you’re here...why you care,” Ed sniffed out as he sat up, still not looking her in the eye. His eyes were red, puffy, his nose was running.

“Ed, listen to me, that precinct is my home, and the people in it are my family. You, are my family. Family takes care of each other.” His shoulders shook and his jaw trembled. She was hugging him before she realized. He went still as a board. Then he choked out a sob. He cried into her shoulder for longer than she cared to keep track of. Through the entire ordeal, she couldn’t help but feel like a mother or older sister comforting a small child. Sarah knew that she _needed_ to protect him, to help him heal. He was her family and she needed to help him. The tears left her eyes. She kept soothing lines and circles and lines onto his back. He clung to her blazer as he cried. “Shh, I’m here. It’s okay, Ed” she whispered like a mantra trying to make him understand he was safe, he was cared about and for. Sarah Essen held the man she was too young to mother, age didn’t matter here. Ed needed this.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo. The reason this chapter is so long is that every time I ended a segment it didn't seem like a good leaving-off point for a chapter. 
> 
> I've always thought that Sarah Essen was the closest thing Ed had to a maternal figure in the show (and I thought that she would be the only way he would have a positive parental figure, which would help him a lot.)
> 
> I hope you liked it. Please leave a comment, I BEG OF YOU. 
> 
> Next time: more Harvey, more Carlos, a visit from a mobster, also Ed and Tom get questioned by various GCPD members about what happened the night of.


	11. Hospital Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed is in the hospital still. Still day three. He and Tom get questioned (sort of...) and Carlos gets an idea. 
> 
> Warnings: Tom is a major misogynistic bastard. 
> 
> this chapter is roughly 2600 words

 

Carlos couldn’t pace like Lee, he couldn’t meddle with a pen like Kristen. So, he just sat. The world was spinning and he could hardly breathe. They hadn’t been that cruel to Nygma, surely? He really thought that no one would show up to see if he was alright. Did he think that no one would want to help him? Did he think that everyone would be happy to just forget him and let him die? With each question that echoed in Carlos’ head, he felt infinitely more horrified and ashamed. He’d been a part of the treatment that led to Nygma believing such horrible things to be true. He had contributed to making one of his co-workers think that he would die and no one would care. Carlos needed to throw up. How could he let this happen? How? How could he just stand by as it happened? How could he do this to his co-worker? To the most harmless and well-meaning one? A drop fell onto his pants. Water? _Oh. When had he started crying?_

“Carlos?”

“He thinks that none of us would care if he died. I made him think that.” _Just like the people at high school had made Angie think that._

“Carlos this isn’t, it’s not only-” _I failed, I let him down, just like Angie…_

“But I was a part of it! I never asked him how his day was, or about his hobbies! And I never told anyone to knock it off when they were-” _I thought he was ok, just like Angie...couldn’t see it until it was too late…_

“Neither did I, or Lee. We are all guilty.”

“I know that! But...he could’ve died thinking that no one would even-” _Angie thought her own brother wouldn’t care…_ No one spoke. He felt as helpless as he did then, with Angie. He let it happen again. _Stop crying! Pull yourself together, Carlos. Crying doesn’t help, you can’t change the past. You find a way forward, you remember how you helped Angie, now you need to do it again. At least this time Nygma isn’t hurting himself, or trying to-trying to…_ He took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes dry then wiped his hands on his pants when he stood up. “Okay then, he likes puzzles and wordplay right?” the two women were looking at him with shock and concern.

“He-ah-yes, he’s especially fond of riddles.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get an apology.”

“ _Get_ an apology?”

“We’ve all somehow contributed to making him think that none of us care about his well being, or about him. We should get something to try to show him that he is wrong, that he isn’t alone and ignored.”

“That’s a good idea. Where did you-?”

“My sister, Angela, this is how I started to make it up to her for making it seem like I didn’t care.”

“We should get more people to do this, all together.” Kristen spoke up.

“That would be a good way to also ensure that the behaviour doesn’t continue or make sure that this time he has a support system.” Lee added on.

“Then we’re decided?”

“I’ll call Jim and see if he’ll help.” Carlos nodded. They were in agreement. Nygma deserved an apology and he was going to get one.

 

* * *

 

Tom was brought to interrogation room four. Being handcuffed to the table was annoying. It wasn’t like anyone cared about the little creep. Why couldn’t they have minded their own business and let him die? It would get rid of the headache that Nygma caused. It wasn’t like the freak had friends. He was weak, pathetic. Tom really was doing a favour to the city by disposing of him. The city didn’t need Nygma, it couldn’t have wanted him either. The door opened, it was goody-two-shoes-Gordon and Bullock. He’d hoped Bullock would’ve been able to see that Nygma wasn’t necessary and that he would do better at the bottom of Gotham River.

“Thomas Dougherty, where were you Thursday night, between the times of 7 and 9 pm?”

“You can call my lawyer until he’s here I’ll just sit, quietly,” he smirked. Gordon looked like he was going to have a fit. Bullock also looked upset. Such a waste. The two left. Why were they pretending to care about the pathetic loser? He rolled his eyes. The girly stupid ‘morals’ of Gordon must’ve been contagious.

 

* * *

  


Ed wasn’t used to receiving hugs. It was nice. Too good to be true, almost. _Did Captain Essen really mean what she said about him being family?_

 _“Like that means anything, your family hates you, remember Eddie? You were a burden.”_ Ed shook.

“It’s okay, Ed. I’m here.” Captain Essen was holding him like the way a mother should comfort her child. How many times he’d wished his own mother had held him like this, just once. How could his boss care more about him than his own mother? Surely this had to be a trick? But, she seemed so honest, so kind.

“My mother…” _Why did he want to tell her?_

“Yes, Ed?” _Would it really feel better to finally tell someone? Maybe Captain Essen would help him feel better? But what if she-_ “It’s ok, breathe Ed.” He hadn’t realized how shallow his breaths were.

“She didn’t hate me as much as father, but-” Ed sobbed, “-it wasn’t like she didn’t try.” Captain Essen was still. _Why wasn’t she moving? Was she-_

“Shh, Ed. It’s ok, they can’t hurt you anymore.” _Why was she still here? Why was she still comforting him when she knew even his own parents didn’t like him?_ She was soothing circles into his back. He felt so small. But, she made him feel better. Safe. There was something about being held that felt so nice. Like he was a kid who was being held after a nightmare. That was what his life felt like sometimes, a nightmare. She didn’t yell at him when he cried, she held him. It still didn’t make much sense to him. _Why would she? Did she really care? Why would she care? Was family that meaningful to other people? Was it holding them when they cried?_

“You’re nicer than they ever were. Even on my first day.” he breathed, “They really weren’t family were they?”

“You’re part of my family now Ed, you don’t have to worry about them, or the past.”

“Thank you.” He let the silence swallow him, it didn’t intimidate him anymore. He could feel Captain Essen holding him, and that seemed to be enough to keep the voice in his head quiet.

 

* * *

 

Harvey picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Alvarez, please tell me you’ve got some good news!”

“I’ve got good and bad, which do you want first?”

“Good.”

“Nygma is alive and conscious.” Harvey sighed, _thank God..._

“And the bad?” He braced himself,

“He thinks that no one cares whether or not he lives or dies.”

“Jesus.” a breath of silence. _Did we really treat him that bad?_ Guilt weighed heavy in his stomach.

“Yea, but uh, Kristen, Lee and I are planning a bunch of gifts to apologise and say ‘get better soon.’ ”

“Good idea,” _When was the last time someone did something nice for Nygma? Had anyone really thought about how they all treated him? Had he?_

“Thanks,”

“Who was that?” Jim asked, giving his usual full attention, nosy-but-concerned boy-scout stare.

“Alvarez. And you?”

“Lee, she wants me to help make an apology gift for Ed.”

“Yep, Alvarez just told me about it.”

“So, what are you gonna get him?”

“First off I’m getting him a pretzel before we question him today since Dougherty’s lawyer ain’t turning up anytime soon!” He grabbed his jacket and didn’t wait to see if Jim followed him out to the car. Harvey knew he’d never really been _nice_ to Nygma, he’d dismissed his oddities and tried to keep him as far away as possible. He knew he’d said some pretty mean stuff too, without ever apologising… He should do that, apologise. It wasn’t like Nygma could help being odd. He was just an odd duck and maybe he should’ve been more tolerant of it instead of shutting him down when he tried to share about himself and his interests. He was probably only trying to be friends anyway. Harvey’s mouth felt dry as they drove, picking up a little piece of buttery twisted heaven on the way. He needed a drink, but, that wouldn’t help anything, would it?

 

* * *

 

At some point, he had stopped crying. His eyes were dry and his throat stung. How long had Captain Essen been holding him? He didn't know. He didn't care. It felt nice. To be held. he didn't want to think about the eventual end of this niceness, this comfort. He'd almost fallen asleep when Captain Essen gently started to pull away.

“Remember what I said about family, Ed. Now I've got to get back to work, I'll try to visit again tomorrow. Feel better, okay?”

“I'll try.” She smiled, nodded, then left. His eyes started to droop, he laid down. Then, he slept.

He awoke to a smell that was distinctly not bleached chemical disinfectant that permeated the hospital. It kinda smelled flowers? He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Sure enough, there was a man holding a bouquet of flowers. Ed didn’t need his glasses to know who it was, his presence was very distinct. Sharp, smooth, like the edge of a blade. Oswald Cobblepot, the Penguin had brought him flowers. Why? Their one and only interaction was clumsy and hostile. So why was the Penguin, _the Penguin,_ visiting him in the hospital and bring flowers?

“Mr. Penguin?”

“Last time we met, you asked me a riddle, why?”

“Why are you here?” _Maybe Captain Essen, Dr. Thompkins, Ms. Kringle, and Detective Alvarez could care but a career criminal who I’ve only met once and seemed to irritate? No, it didn’t make sense._

“I located your vehicle as a favour to an old friend.”

“Detective Gordon?”

“How-”

“Harvey only asks Ms. Mooney for help, and she’s not exactly around,” the Penguin nodded.

“You didn’t answer my question; why did you ask me the riddle?”

_“Because he’s a spastic, little freak. Isn’t that right Eddie?”_

“I like riddles,” Ed shrugged half-heartedly, trying to ignore the not-voice.

_“I have a riddle for you; What kind of awkward little dweeb introduces themselves with a riddle?”_

“You didn’t answer my question either; why are you here?” _What would prompt the Penguin to visit him?_

“When you’re in my sort of business you are much more familiar with ending a life rather than saving one,”

“And the flowers?”

“That’s what you’re supposed to bring to wish someone well?” Ed shrugged, “My mother likes lilies,” Ed squinted at the flowers. _White stargazer lilies, typically mean purity and sympathy._

“They’re nice, thank you. And thank you for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Nygma,”

 

* * *

 

Jim felt fidget-y. He couldn’t sit or stand still the whole way to Ed. Harvey was off too, in the 'he needed a drink' kind of way. It didn’t help bumping to Penguin in the hall.

“What are you doing here?”

“Wishing someone to get well soon,” the Penguin smiled his sarcastic smile, “Now if you don’t mind I have a business to run.” Harvey grabbed him by the shoulder and made him keep walking forward.

“Hello Ed,” Jim said.

“Hello, Detectives.”

“Before we start the routine questioning have this,” Harvey handed him the wrapped pretzel. “-and, I'm real sorry for everything I've said, I know that I've said and done some real nasty things, and it ain't right. I'm sorry.” Ed looked confused at the apology.

“Apology accepted,” he stared quietly, _Did he think it was a joke? Did he think that no one would feel bad about what they'd done to him?_ He unwrapped the wax paper. “A pretzel?”

“I figured you'd want something to eat, after being out, and hospital food ain't real food so…”

“Thank you, Detective Bullock.” He gave a small smile, eyes still trained on the food item. Jim took out the recorder, turned it on and hit play, nodding to Harvey.

“What happened last Thursday night between 7 and 9 pm?”

“I was waiting for Officer Dougherty in my car across the street from Ms. Kringle's house. --I'd seen him trying to force Ms. Kringle to forgive him and ...I saw the bruises. I confronted him at the precinct and he said that she ‘needed a firm hand’-- when he showed up at her house I called him and I told him that I wasn't going to let him hurt her and I told him to leave Gotham. I brought a knife, it was to intimidate and for possible self-defense, as I am obviously not evenly matched against him in a fight, should he get violent. Then he punched me, and kicked me and bashed my head against the curb. Then I guess he put me in the trunk of my car and left me to die.”

“What happened to the knife?” Jim asked, finally getting his mouth to work.

“He knocked it out of my hands.”

“And your glasses?” Jim continued.

“They came off my face a few punches in.”

“And you were confronting him because?” He let Harvey take over again. He was shaking a little bit, just too angry to ask these patronizing questions to someone who'd been nearly dead a few hours ago. Especially when he knew who was to blame. He was itching to get back to the precinct and punch Dougherty again.

“I already said, he was hurting Ms. Kringle, I wasn't going to let him keep hurting her! People who are supposed to love you should never hurt you!” Jim hadn't heard Ed raise his voice often, or maybe even ever… he must have felt strongly against abuse.

“Sorry, Ed, just routine questioning. Now, by what you just said you mean that you confronted him because you thought he was assaulting a co-worker?” Harvey was using by-the-book language. Which meant he wanted no chance of Dougherty being let loose. _Good._

“Yes.” Jim clicked the recorder off.

“Thank you, Ed,” Harvey said. Jim started. He'd never heard Harvey call him Ed before, it had always been Nygma, or the geek, etc. Never just Ed. Ed looked shocked too, he was looking up with wide eyes.

“You're welcome, Detective. And thank you again for the pretzel.”

“Enjoy it, and be sure to get better. Got it, Ed?” Harvey finished in a lighthearted manner.

“I'll try,” He replied with a small smile. It was soothing. Jim let his shoulders slump.

“Good night, Ed, I promise we'll get this asshole behind bars and he'll stay there.” Jim promised, Ed nodded. He and Harvey left, the journey back to the GCPD was much better than the ride from.

 

* * *

 

Ed munched on his pretzel as he contemplated the last few hours. Seven people had come to see him in the four to five hours he'd been conscious. No one had visited him at his apartment in the four years he'd had it, no one usually came by his office to check in. But maybe they meant it, that they hadn't realized what they'd been doing to him. And maybe they really did want him to feel better. Dinner was tasteless and bland, but after three days without food, his stomach wasn't complaining. He fell asleep with a full belly and the hope that maybe, _maybe,_ people might actually care about him. And the not-voice stayed blissfully silent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm going to avoid writing with the 3rd person limited on Tom because he pisses me off so much. 
> 
> Whoo! I finally updated this! I hope you guys like. 
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT I BEG OF YOU
> 
> Next: lawyering up, some more recovery, and a new character!


	12. A Lawyer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed gets a lawyer. (I bet you know who it is)

 

“He needs a lawyer.” Sarah Essen was standing outside her office, determination set in her gaze. Jim and Harvey looked up. Captain Essen usually was not one to just say things without giving the rest of the information, namely who or what she was speaking of. She looked tired, and if the coffee pot in her hand had anything to say it would probably be that she didn’t sleep well and was in dire need of a nap. Even if it was only 8:27 in the morning. 

“Excuse me?” Jim asked.

“Ed, he needs a lawyer if he’s going to press charges.”

“He’s gonna,” Harvey said, without looking up from his current paperwork. They had yet to get Dougherty to confess but Ed’s testimony, along with a few other GCPD employees would surely get him sent to Blackgate. No matter how good his lawyer was. 

“Why not Harvey?”

“Do I look like a lawyer to you?” 

“Not you, Harvey _ Dent _ ” Sarah smiled at the two’s antics. At least some things are still the same. 

“You mean the Wellzyhm guy who almost got your witnesses killed last time?” Harvey asked. 

“Well, this time we’re not against someone who can hire private assassins.” Jim deadpanned half-glaring at his partner while dialing the number. 

“Hello?”

“It’s Gordon,” Jim started.

“Oh, hello again!”

“How do you feel about putting an attempted murderer behind bars?”

“Details?” the lawyer asked, mildly interested. 

“It's a cop, he tried to kill one of the GCPD civilian staff that found out he hit his girlfriend-”

“I’m in.” Harvey Dent interrupted, tone deathly serious. It was a little strange how he could change on a dime like that, but Jim had other problems to deal with then. 

“In that case, Ed is still in the hospital recovering, he can start you on the case and Alvarez can give you the rest of the information.”

“Got it.” Harvey Dent hung up. Jim hoped that meant he would be on the way to talk to Ed.

 

* * *

 

Hospital breakfast food wasn’t fantastic, to state the obvious. But Ed was hungry, and as long as it didn’t have onions in it he’d be fine. Even if the ‘oatmeal’ would be better described as soggy cardboard mush. But food was food, especially when you're hungry. Ed really wished he could get his glasses back, it might alleviate some of the lingering nausea. Or at least let him see what he was eating. He hadn’t missed his mouth yet, but he’d had a couple near-misses that kept his dose of paranoia at a healthy strength. His head didn’t feel like it was tumbling in a washing machine anymore, so that was better. And he’d gotten a little more used to the pain that breathing caused. He was feeling better, bruised and bed-ridden still, but better. He’d had several visitors yesterday; the Penguin, Ms. Kringle, Dr. Thompkins, Capt. Essen, Detectives Alvarez, Bullock, and Gordon…  _ What was that five-no! It was seven.  _ Seven people had visited him. Seven. Ed wasn’t sure there had been a point in his life where he had even that many acquaintances. Before this, he wasn’t sure if even that many would show up at his funeral had he gotten into an accident or if he had lived a long life and died old. Those depressing numbers were dismissed, forgotten, as he smiled to himself. There was a possibility that seven people cared about weird little Ed. Seven people that might actually want him to be alright. Despite the too-scratchy too-thin hospital sheets he felt warm, cozy even. It might even mean that seven people or at least one or two of them would actually be his friend. He could have a friend, a real one. A person that had his back, that wanted to spend time with him, that wanted him to be alright, someone who would also count on him, a  _ friend.  _ He was startled by a knock. No one had knocked before coming in...who was it? 

“I’m sorry but are you Edward Nygma?” A head poked in, opening the door a little bit. He had dark hair and was wearing a suit, and that was the most that Ed could tell without his glasses. 

“Yes, and you are?” the man’s voice didn’t sound familiar, and from what he could see he didn’t think he knew him. 

“Oh! Sorry, I’m Harvey Dent, I was told that you needed a lawyer?” Harvey Dent. Who is--  _ the district attorney! What was he doing here? _

“By who?” Ed knew there were quite a few thieves posing as lawyers and approaching and victimizing the more gullible citizens of Gotham. It wasn’t that shocking, Gotham was known for crime.   

“Oh, Jim Gordon asked if I could come in on this case,” the man answered, he had an even, pleasant voice. He became less blurry as he approached. 

“Why’d you take it?” Why would he randomly come in and help on a case and be the lawyer for a complete stranger? Did he owe Detective Gordon a favour? 

“Any chance to put an abuser behind bars is as good as gold to me.” he was rubbing one forearm absentmindedly. Ed knew why, it was the same reason he shifted his shoulders, his back itching. The pain in his ribs spiked, he hissed. “Are you alright?” Attorney Dent asked, leaning in with what Ed thought were concerned eyes. It kept happening. People kept acting like they cared. 

_ “He only cares because he doesn’t know how much of a little freak you are Eddie!~”  _

“I’m fine,” Ed said with a little more force than he meant to. “Just two broken ribs and a few bruises,” Ed tried to remedy, he didn’t want to sound rude or abrasive, not when someone was trying to be kind. Ed didn’t look at the other man as he spoke. He didn’t want to mess this up any more than he already had. He could feel the not-voice smirking. 

“Right, there’s a reason we’re in a hospital!” Attorney Dent said, smacking himself on the forehead. And laughing in a breathless sort of embarrassed way. Ed did that when he caught himself in a social conundrum. It was how Ed berated himself when there were people around. He had spent less than five minutes with the man and they already seemed so similar. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a freak as the not-voice and everyone else had insisted he was. Or maybe they were both freaks. Either way, he wasn’t alone. Ed felt tears in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's been forever, the words just wouldn't flow for a while. Please forgive me. That being said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> Please comment, I ADORE feedback. (I swear I don't bite)


	13. If you ever need anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos Alvarez and Harvey Dent

 

It didn’t take too long to find the puzzle and wordplay section of Gotham library. However, it did take him longer than he would have hoped to find the right riddle. But when he did, Carlos knew it in his bones. It wasn’t the same as when he did it for Angie, but he had been closer to Angie and had been guilty for different reasons. This time he didn’t bother to try to see if Nygma was alright, just assumed that the ever-smiling man was fine. He should have paid more attention, again he hadn’t paid enough attention. But at least Nygma didn’t want to- at least not yet. Carlos may or may not have checked out a few basic riddle books, if he was going to do this right he would need some practice with that particular brand of wordplay. Luckily word had spread through the precinct, quite a few people were joining the effort. Carlos was disappointed by the majority who either were apathetic or worse, scoffed and laughed. It made his stomach churn and boil, he had to force himself to stay calm. It wasn’t a joke. But with how they had always treated the man, it wasn’t too surprising. Carlos felt disgusted with himself again, he hadn’t done a thing to stop it. He’d even laughed at a few of those rude jokes, he’d helped to make Nygma a punchline. He breathed, at least some of them, at least he, had started trying to make it right. By some miracle Tom Dougherty was still behind bars in the holding cell, while people visited and talked to him he was still there. Carlos was sick of watching abusers go free or get let off easy, especially those who wore a badge. Their job, their duty was to protect people in this city, it wasn’t just a paycheck and the ability to beat up whom so ever you pleased and get let off easy. That evening he was going to visit Nygma.

 

* * *

 

Oh Shit. _Damnit, Harvey, you’re not supposed to make the assault victim cry!_ Harvey Dent’s head was a hailstorm of self-berating and concern. “Oh no! Did I say something wrong or-!” Wait. He's smiling? Why is he smiling he was crying-

“No! No, you didn’t upset me,” Mr. Nygma waved his hand in a frantic _it's okay, it's okay_ motion, “I just- it just hit me that I'm not alone, sorry that sounds stupid-” Harvey felt a strong kinship with this man, here they were both struggling to communicate within social parameters that neither of them seemed to have much grace with.

“No! Your feelings aren't stupid, don't apologize, I'm glad that you're crying--okay that came out wrong, uhh-- I'm glad that the reason you're crying is happy… ?” Harvey knew that was a very awkward jumble of words and he was having trouble fixing them. At least Mr. Nygma was smiling.

“Thank you, Attorney Dent.”  

“Please, Mr. Nygma, just Harvey is fine.”

“Alright, Harvey, you can call me Edward, o-or Ed,”

“Well then, Edward, let's start with your case now, shall we?” The man smiled back at him and they started. With each question and little piece of the story revealed Harvey was even more grateful that he had accepted this case. Because wow that Dougherty guy was a special brand of fucked up and needs to be behind bars. He was just nauseous trying to figure out how in the hell the abusive, misogynistic bastard got a badge in the first place. On second thought, he didn't really want to figure it out. Instead, he hoped that the GCPD that Gotham got the chance it needed to improve, at least to the point where domestic abusers and people accused of assault wouldn't be hired onto the police force. He hated hearing about the extensive injuries that Edward received even though he's been waiting across the street from the son and house.

“Wait- you are aware that your actions are considered sexual harassment?”

“What?”

“You followed that woman around and pestered her even though she told you not to,”

“I-I didn't mean to make her feel uncomfortable,” Edward was shrinking in on himself, hunching and making himself smaller. “I just- she was the only one who was nice to me and- ...I didn't mean to,” he sounded so sincere, so raw. Harvey swallowed, that didn't mean it still wasn't wrong, even if you didn't know you were doing it it is still a crime.

“Intent doesn't matter, you still harassed her,”

“I'm sorry, I just- I've never had a friend and no one ever wanted to talk to me and I'm just a freak and I just wanted to help her I just wanted to be nice! He hurt her! It's wrong I couldn't let him hurt her again! I had to help her! I had to keep him away!” He was babbling, curling in on himself with a high and panicked voice, talking too fast. Edward was crying too. His breathing wasn't doing too good, it was shallow and stilted. The heart monitor beeped faster, and wow that noise was very anxiety-inducing.

“Why?” Harvey had a feeling he already knew why. His arm was itchy again, the little circular scars aching in an echo of the burning, stinging pain that they'd been when inflicted.

“Because no one ever helped me!”

“Hey! What's going on here?!” Harvey whipped around. There was a man standing in the open door, medium skin tone, dark hair, and a long face. “Nygma? Are you alright?” Edward was shaking. “Did he hurt you?”

“No! Attorney Dent didn't do anything! I-I just-” understanding passed onto the man's face and he let out a breath.

“It's okay, we're here to help you now,”

“Uh, I'm just gonna leave if that's ok, I'll see you tomorrow Edward!” The hospital bound man nodded, not looking up from where he was fidgetting his fingers. Harvey left, fleeing awkwardly. Eventually, he'd have to find _the_ Detective Alvarez again, he was supposed to get case evidence from him. _Shit!_

 

* * *

 

The district attorney left, and Carlos had the distinct impression that it was more fleeing an awkward situation than fleeing from a crime. And Nygma had started calming down as soon as he was asked of he was alright. Carlos had caught a snippet of conversation while coming in. _“Because no one ever helped me!”_  The words rang like giant church bells, echoing in his head. What had they been talking about? What had happened to Nygma? Was it them, him, everyone at the precinct? Or was he talking about something else? Carlos’ thoughts were interrupted by the man he came to visit.

“Thank you, Detective Alvarez, but why are you here?”

“I wanted to check up on you,”

“Why?”

“To see how you were doing,”

“Why do you care? Why are you acting like you care?”

“Because, you're a person, and I got this job to help people, and not only did I stand by and let you get hurt, I also was part of it.”

“What?”

“No one should ever think that they are alone or that no one cares whether they live or die. I'm ashamed and sorry that I had a hand in it and that I haven't done anything to fight that until now.” Nygma was staring at him, eyes wide with confusion and what looked very sad. “I'm very sorry for what I've done to you, I hope I can make it up to you,”

“I- ..thank you, Detective Alvarez,” he didn't seem to sure, he didn't quite believe it, Angie hadn't either at first. He knew it would take time, but it still hurt. He'd done this. He'd been a part of this, like the disgusting corruption. He'd just accepted it and now someone was hurting, badly. He didn't want to go home, how could he face Maura knowing that he'd aided in bringing a person to think that no one would care if he died?

“Carlos, my name is Carlos,”

“Thank you, Carlos,”

“Can I call you Edward or-?”

“Yes,”

“Then you're welcome, Edward, I hope you're feeling better?”

“I am, but I really can't wait to get out of here,”

“Don't like hospitals?”

“I've visited them a little more often than I'd like,”

“I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do for you, ever, just ask, okay?”

“What?” He didn't like how confused Edward Nygma looked. He looked like he thought it was going to be a trick or a joke.

“If anyone at the precinct or here makes you uncomfortable or anything, just tell me,”

“Why? Why would you-?”

“Because no one deserves to be mistreated,” Nygma--Edward, his name is Edward-- swallowed, blinking back tears and biting his lip. Those words struck a chord and it seemed he was starting to believe that he truly wasn't alone.

“Thank you, Carlos.” maybe he could go home at a reasonable hour tonight. Now, he was starting to feel like he could face Maura with a clean conscious, she wasn't a naive woman, but she still liked to think of him as helping others, as a small hero. At least, with this promise, he was starting to right his wrongs. He was starting to make it up to Edward. Edward smiled, it was small, but still there.

“Anytime,” Carlos promised, letting a smile rest on his tired face. They could do this, he could do this, they could all make it up to Edward. They could help him, and treat him the right way. He couldn't remember the exact details of the conversation later, only that they'd talked about things they'd found interesting in past cases and their discovered mutual love of video games and also the shared guilty pleasure of a show called Ancient Aliens. (Maura got him hooked on it a few years back.) It was a pleasant conversation and with it, Edward seemed to relax and also gain energy. He started to look a little more like himself, and when Carlos wished him a quick recovery and a good night he smiled. Carlos went home, not once considering hiding from Maura at a bar or another late night. She greeted him in her usual teasing and sweet manner. Sleeping that night was easier, knowing that he had at least helped someone that day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carlos Alvarez has a wife only mentioned once and it seemed to be implying that he stayed away from home sometimes, instead of saying that he cheats I'm going with he is ashamed of how corrupt his job is when he's trying to help people but he really cant and he can't face his wife sometimes becuase of that (those are on bad days) thank you Colie for helping me with some of that as well as Mrs. Alvarez's name. 
> 
> Harvey Dent and Carlos Alvarez are sweet hearts. 
> 
> Sorry it's been a long time, I'm sick right now but writing made me feel a little better, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> [Please comment? I swear the only person I've ever bitten is myself]


	14. A fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starring: Harvey Dent, Carlos Alvarez, Edward Nygma, and a nurse maned Lynn. 
> 
> WARNINGS: heavy angst. memories of childhood abuse, strong self hatred/self-loathing, low self worth, referenced/mentioned child abuse, past violence, depressive thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm warning you, this chapter isn't too pleasant, if you aren't in a great place right now you might not want to read it and that's okay.

 

 

Harvey Dent took a sip out of his thermos. It was actually filled with hot cocoa, as it always was, but using a coffee thermos hid that easily. For some reason drinking hot cocoa at any other time of the year than winter was seen as childish. Despite how much he disagreed, Harvey preferred to drink his morning sugar and caffeine in peace without having to justify why he wouldn't drink coffee. So he wouldn't have to explain why the smell made him nauseous. _Too many cups full of boiling hot dark roast flung at him._ Today he'd get the case file from a Detective Alvarez before going back to review the case with his client. And this time he was _not_ going to distress the poor man again. He was gonna do this right. The GCPD precinct was quieter than he expected.

"Excuse me, do you know where I can find a Detective Alvarez?"

"That would be me," Harvey turned. Oh, _oh. Crud._

It was the man from yesterday. The one that had walked in when Edward had started to freak out. At least from that encounter, Harvey knew _someone_ was watching out for Edward. The only downside of that was, of course, that Harvey himself might now be deemed as a threat to Edward. Hopefully, he could clear that up without making an even bigger mess.

"For the record, it was not my intention to distress Edward, I didn't think about what I was saying and it won't happen again!" Harvey rushed through his explanation/apology, his vision losing little spots. Maybe it should've been two breaths and not one...

“Uh, that’s good, I’m guessing you’re here for a copy of the case file?” the detective had more social grace than he did, which may have been a bit worrisome but currently he’d been feeling a little off. He rarely got the chance to lock an abuser up, and the conversation with Edward was bringing back some, less than pleasant memories, not that it was the man’s fault. It was just unfortunately timed.

“Yes!” Harvey smiled, the crisis had been averted. The forgiveness was easily found in this interaction, even though it’d never been voiced. Harvey was almost grateful that _the_ Detective Alvarez hadn’t worded a specific notice of forgiveness, it would have been inappropriate anyway, Edward was the one wronged. The apology needed to go to Edward. Harvey added it to his mental list of things to prepare for his afternoon meeting with his hospitalized client.

 

* * *

 

 

Edward’s stay in the hospital was boring and nauseating. Without his glasses, everything was a huge blur, and the inability to focus his vision was not helping his stomach, which had already been upset by the reintroduction of food. Ed didn’t think the hospital food could be too nutritious if it tasted like cardboard (the nurse said it was supposed to be oatmeal, he wasn’t sure without his glasses) and scented plastic (the horrid red jell-o). Without any distractions, his thoughts kept bringing him back to Cherry.

The last time he’d been hospitalized he also didn’t have his glasses. Though then the bruises and blows had been concentrated to his neck and face. He had ran out of the local emergency room, changing in a public bathroom and clamoring out the first story window. Adrenaline was his only ally. He checked himself into Cherry after hitchhiking for at least 20 miles. He’d told them about the voice in his head, he told them it made him say things that got him hurt. They didn’t care that the last bit was a lie. The staff was rude and their was too much clatter at night for him to sleep. It wasn’t exactly the best for patients with physical injuries but for the week he didn’t have to worry about how close father had been to killing him that time. He didn’t think about behaving a certain way. But he still felt the purple handprints clutching his throat. But then the police found him. Father was at the station when they brought him in. At least the man had been sober when he took Ed home.

He could feel the not-voice smirking, laughing at his pain, his past.

 _“He could still find you Eddie, drag you back to that place, beat it out of you again. Or maybe you won’t make it there it is a four-state journey. Maybe he’ll lose his patience and just PUSH you out onto the highway!”_ He closed his eyes, he didn’t want to think about father finding him, not after all this freedom, not now.

“He wouldn’t put forth that much effort for me, I’m nothing but an annoyance, remember?”

_“A fly is an annoyance, but people still take time to catch and kill them.”_

His stomach was churning worse than before, this not-voice made him feel so uneasy, skinned alive and bared for the world to mock and jeer at. It stole his tongue, his sound, and twisted his precious logic against him. It festered behind his eyes and encouraged him to hate what he was more and more. He knew it wasn’t real, it was a projection of his fears and self loathing. But that was why he couldn’t banish it away himself, this thing had been growing in him for as long as he could remember. Why would a mother ignore and scold her child if he hadn’t done something wrong, why would his father turn to the bottle if he hadn’t done something wrong? Why would he be punished if he didn’t do something wrong? He wasn’t sure if the words were his or the not-voice’s. It was somewhere, not quite one or the other, but both. He knew he ought to stop thinking this way. But he was suffering alone, and why would he be alone if anyone cared?

The door crashed open. He flinched, almost jumping up from the bed.

Blue blurry scrubs. The nurse, Lynn. She was friendly, a mild midwestern accent, it was her job to care for people but that didn’t mean she _cared._

“I’m sorry if I startled you, Mr. Nygma, just here for routine readings and your dihydrocodeine,”

He sat still, he swallowed the semi-synthetic opioid along with some water. And opened his mouth to show he’d done it, like when he was-

She left soon after that, cheerily wishing him well until her next shift.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some hugs, I am actually sorry. *hugs*
> 
> Next chapter will come with less of a wait I hope *glares at myself*


	15. A little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kristen.

It wasn’t hard for Kristen to get Mr. Nygma a new pair of glasses, it was the least she could do. It had been  _ her  _ boyfriend who broke the last pair and tried to kill him, after all. 

Earlier that morning she’d even found the courage to tell Tom that it was over. 

It was so freeing. 

She didn’t have to worry immediately about her own safety being threatened by Tom, he was behind bars in a holding cell with other criminals. She was safe from him, and so was Mr. Nygma. And she hoped it would stay that way. 

That should have made her feel better. But she was still quite uneasy. What if the charges didn't stick? What if they did? Tom still had many friends at the precinct that probably wouldn't care about his misdeeds. Those friends would blame her and Mr. Nygma for Tom’s incarceration. They'd find some way to hurt her, to hurt Mr. Nygma. She'd decided she'd been hurt enough. Mr. Nygma too. But Kristen wasn't entirely sure on how she would keep herself and the forensic scientist safe from some of their coworkers without making a fuss. 

She didn't want to make a fuss and waste valuable resources on over silly worries. But she was scared, and as much as she thought that she might be overreacting she remembered what happened to officers who don't--um-- don't fit the mold as expected of them. Detective Gordon had been beaten quite a bit. And she personally thought that bother her and Mr. Nygma had quite enough bruises and beatings already. 

The hospital was the same almost-dreary monotony it had been the first time she’d come to see Mr. Nygma. She hoped that this time he would be more settled in and that he wouldn’t be upset to see her. If she hadn’t have been dating Tom none of this would have happened. Though, she couldn’t entirely blame herself for being tricked by him. He’d seemed so sweet and caring at first. But he was a horrible man, he was just good and luring you in with honey-sweet words and actions, roping you in and trapping you. Slowly letting his toxicity leak back out, only when you were trapped. 

Kristen shook her head. This was no time to be thinking about Tom. That man didn’t deserve her attention or her thoughts. Now she ought to think of the poor man who almost died trying to make her safe. The poor man who thought he’d die in the trunk of his car and that no one would try to help him in any way. That no one would care. 

Mr. Nygma was wrong. So, so, unbelievably wrong. Kristen knew she hadn’t been the kindest or most patient with the man, but she’d never wished harm on him. She’d only wished for some peace and quiet. But that was not worth a man’s life. It never would be. 

Mr. Nygma looked glum. Though, in his defense, he had every right and reason to be. It didn’t help that hospitals were not the cheeriest of places. Though she hoped that being able to see would cheer him up a bit. It would at least take away one annoyance. 

“Hello, Mr. Nygma?”

“Ms. Kringle? Why are you here?”

“Well, first of all, I’ve got something of yours,” She took the case out of her bag, Mr. Nygma was squinting at her in confusion. She handed him the case. He knew what it was in an instant, snapping the case open and unfolding the arms to place the glasses where they should be. He blinked a few times, glancing about the barren hospital room a while before focusing back on her. 

“Thank you, I don’t know how I can-”

“Mr. Nygma, respectfully, you don’t owe me.” he didn’t argue with that, the understanding of his situation coming back. “Just don’t die,”

“Roger Dodger,” he smiled, it was a tiny smile for him, but it was real. And that was enough. 

“Alright, Mr. Nygma, I have another 96 minutes before I’m needed elsewhere, and I assume that this place gets pretty boring and lonesome without company. So, what would you like to talk about?” Mr. Nygma blinked at her, twice, thrice. 

“Did Captain Essen hire someone to replace me?”

“No, and I’m sure that she won’t, if anything, she’ll hire someone to help out while you recover, someone that you can work with.” He nodded at that. It was a sensible decision. Even in his less than stellar state he could see that. 

Talking to Mr. Nygma was overall, quite pleasant, a little awkward, but pleasant. He was nice, especially now that he’d stopped seeing her as only a possible romantic relationship. He didn’t tell any riddles either, though that was less of a relief, he didn’t seem to be feeling that well. But the small smile and the way he spoke were both genuine and grateful. Eventually, they would get Mr. Nygma back to his excitable, awkward cheer. Now, Kristen just had to focus on the present, about making sure Mr. Nygma didn’t feel abandoned or alone. 

When Kristen got up to leave she was happy that she had decided to stay. Mr. Nygma looked significantly less glum and more like himself. 

“Thank you, Ms. Kringle,”

“Kristen is fine,”

“Thank you, Kristen. You can just call me Edward,”

“You’re welcome, Edward,” with the smile she received in return he seemed to look just a little more himself. A little less glum. A little bit better. A little less alone. And Kristen felt a little less guilt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG


	16. Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay! after this I'll officially be introducing two new characters to interact with the recovering Ed!  
> (One is my creation, the other I bet you can guess)

The apology was coming along well. A basket with muffins, a few scientific encyclopedias, puzzle books, a discrete chess set, the first three seasons of ancient aliens, and a Rubik’s cube so far. Carlos only hoped that the card Lee was currently working on would get more than five signatures. Really, the lack of empathy for Edward in the precinct, especially after all that happened, was disgusting. Carlos felt icky just knowing that he was working with a building of unsympathetic and downright cruel people. He wanted to throw plastic spoons at their heads and somehow punish them for their atrocious attitudes. A man was on the verge of deciding that his life had no value and no one seemed to care. He felt like dry ice had been dropped into his stomach, just churning away in the most uncomfortable sensation. He needed to take a breath.

In. Out. 

Relax. 

It isn’t your fault that these people don’t care. You can’t change their minds. But you can change Edward’s. You can help him believe in himself, in his worth. And that was more important at the moment. He could focus on his coworkers' terrible attitudes later. Now, Edward was the one who needed attention. 

Carlos wondered if Gotham Gen had figured out whether or not Edward had a concussion. By now the symptoms should be apparent enough to be documented. He was sure that either way, Edward probably wanted out of that hospital room. 

Captain hired a new forensic to help out while Edward was out, she also claimed that they needed two anyway because the workload was… not very nice. Carlos didn’t know what to think of the man yet, he was intelligent and seemed reasonable enough. Carlos would probably not get to really meet the guy until tomorrow, but that would be fine, there were other things he needed to deal with first. Like seeing if he could get Maura to help with the apology, she would probably have a good idea to put in. She was so thoughtful. Maybe she would want to visit Edward with him? That way he could actually show her one of the nicer aspects of his job; helping people. She and Edward would probably get along well, after all, they both did love Ancient Aliens and Nasa Secret files (or whatever it was called). 

Yes. That seemed like a good idea. Edward needed compassion and Maura had a lot of it to give. Besides, there was no harm in his wife having more science friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses on who the new co-forensic is? ;)
> 
> I promise more Ed interactions are to come.


End file.
